Building Birdhouses
by Obviously Insane
Summary: And I'm wondering, well, how hard is it for someone to build a birdhouse?


**_Mitchie_**

"So, Nate. Are you done with my birdhouse yet?"

I watched as Nate slowly closed his eyes, annoyance clear on his face. He stuck a fork into the middle of his giant pile of pancakes before speaking. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again!" Jason cried. He slid into the seat next to his younger brother, nearly knocking over my glass of orange juice in the process. I looked him over; he was still wearing his pajamas with rubber duckies on them. They were a gift from Shane for his birthday last week, and Jason had barely taken them off since; they were even starting to smell a little, but when you're on tour, hygiene isn't a top priority. "You've been promising me a birdhouse for like, ten years now."

"Actually, I haven't," Nate said with a grimace, finally taking a bite of these pancakes. He turned to me with a huge grin plastered onto his face. "Mitchie, these are majorly delicious. Did you put vanilla in them, or something?"

"Cinammon," I corrected, nodding my head.

"Well, they're awesome," he mumbled. "Remind me to get the recipe from you later. Not that I'll actually be able to cook them, or anything..."

"_Nate_," Jason said seriously, his eyes narrowing. "You _promised_ me, at Camp Rock. Our first year there? At the Junior Rockers daycare center?"

"Oh my God," Nate muttered, putting his fork down with reluctance. "I was like, six years old. I'm obviously not going to keep every promise I made to you when I was _six_."

Jason made a noise of disapproval. "Dude, you're the worst brother ever."

"No, actually, I'm not," Nate laughed, picking up his utensil and stabbing a piece of his breakfast. "I think Shane has that category covered."

"Why?" I asked, my interest suddenly piqued. "What does he do?"

"Dude," Nate shook his head, and I watched as a bit of maple syrup dribbled down his chin. "You don't want to know."

"One time he locked me outside during a storm," Jason said solemnly, his thin lips stretched into a frown. "I got pneumonia.

"But that's besides the point. My birdhouse, Nate. Judgement day is coming."

"Dude, that made absolutely no sense."

Jason opened his mouth to retort when a huge thump echoed through the bus. Turning my head to see where the noise came from, I saw Shane lying on the floor, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and hair sticking up in every which direction.

"Morning."

"Wow," Nate smirked. "Graceful dismount."

"Shut up," Shane muttered, running a hand through his frizzy curls. He thought his hair looking like hell in the morning, but I secretly loved it. I'd never tell anyone, but it gave me a thrill to see him when he wasn't made up. Because I was the only girl that got to see him like that. Well, besides his mom, but that wasn't really the same thing.

"Good morning, Shane!" I grinned like an idiot, and felt like punching myself. Nate quirked an eyebrow at me, obviously amused. Shane, instead of rolling his eyes like I thought he would, smiled softly back at me.

"Hey," he said slowly, still waking up. He lifted himself up, his blanket falling to the floor. My jaw dropped when I saw that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Who does that? Like, honestly? I'm pretty sure that he knows I have a crush on him. At least, I think he knows. But, wouldn't he have said something? We've been on tour for over a week, and he still treats me like his little sister.

Unless he likes me back. And wants me to see him shirtless. But that would be really weird. Or would it? I've never had such experiences with the male species before. I sighed, and propped my head on my hand. It was too early in the morning to contemplate such things.

"What's for breakfast?" Shane questioned, walking over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of milk and smelled it's contents; it was obviously expired, if the disgusted expression on his face was any implication, but he stuck it back into the fridge nonetheless. Boys.

"You. Making my birdhouse," Jason said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Dude, that didn't make sense either," Nate laughed, stealing my orange juice and taking a sip. I pretended to act offended, but the sight of Shane Gray shirtless was enough to make a girl forget things like juice theft.

"Yeah, well," Jason furrowed his eyebrows, snatching Nate's plate. He walked towards the kitchenette, dumping his unfinished pancakes into the sink. Nate made a noise that one would probably make while being kicked in the groin. "Your face doesn't make sense.

"And I still want that birdhouse."


End file.
